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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692660">how you dream with your eyes open</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notspring/pseuds/notspring'>notspring</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the line between the world and you [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SEVENTEEN (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - The X-Files, But also, M/M, future intrepid reporter boo seungkwan, future paranoid monster chaser hansol vernon chwe, past trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:35:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692660</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notspring/pseuds/notspring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look,” Hansol says, watching Seungkwan try to get at the last bit of his iced americano. It isn’t working — the cup is mostly ice at this point — but the attempt is both impressive and incredibly loud. “If you don’t want to work with me, it’s fine. Hajin-hyung can probably still change the assignments if you ask him nicely.”</p><p>Seungkwan’s head whips up, a startled expression on his face. Hansol doesn’t see why — he was just stating the obvious.</p><p>“Oh, no,” Seungkwan says after a moment, straightening in his seat. “That won’t be necessary.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the line between the world and you [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2280503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>166</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>how you dream with your eyes open</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time they meet, it doesn’t go well.</p><p>After the yearly newspaper positions were assigned Seungkwan immediately reached out, sending an unnecessarily long and overly polite kkt message that could really have been summed up with <i>let’s meet over coffee</i>.</p><p>His tone had been normal in the message, but Hansol can tell as soon as he sits down that Seungkwan knows exactly who he is. Seungkwan is so tidy and put together, collared shirt tucked neatly into his dark wash jeans. If Hansol were the kind of person who compared himself to other people he’d probably feel inferior, but that’s never been something he bothered to care about. </p><p>Seungkwan’s mouth is pursed tightly when he introduces himself, and if the the pointed once-over he gave Hansol when he walked in the café wasn’t a big enough clue, the expression on his face makes his feelings clear. </p><p>Hansol knows what it means when people look at him like that. </p><p>They make it through stilted introductions and a vague discussion about newspaper responsibilities before Hansol can’t take it anymore. </p><p>“Look,” Hansol says, watching Seungkwan try to get at the last bit of his iced americano. It isn’t working — the cup is mostly ice at this point — but the attempt is both impressive and incredibly loud. “If you don’t want to work with me, it’s fine. Hajin-hyung can probably still change the assignments if you ask him nicely.”</p><p>Seungkwan’s head whips up, a startled expression on his face. Hansol doesn’t see why — he was just stating the obvious. </p><p>“Oh, no,” Seungkwan says after a moment, straightening in his seat. “That won’t be necessary.”</p><p>“Okay,” Hansol says slowly, scanning Seungkwan’s face for a reaction. “Do you want to meet up next week, then? We should probably talk more about our plan for the year.”</p><p>The two of them are doing the entertainment section of the university paper. The assignment used to be a hot commodity, but ever since Hansol signed on last year no one has expressed any interest in joining him.</p><p>It’s whatever. Hansol gets to do music reviews, which he likes, and movie and drama reviews, which he only cares about sometimes. He wonders what Seungkwan is interested in. If he’s still interested at all. </p><p>Seungkwan nods, and the smile on his face only looks a little bit forced. Hansol appreciates the attempt. </p><p>“That sounds great,” he says.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When he relays the interaction to Hangyeol later that night, she scoffs.</p><p>“What the fuck? Why are you even trying? You don’t need him,” she says decisively, her judgment on the situation swift and sure. Hansol envies her certainty — he’s never been like that. He always needs time to decide what he thinks. </p><p>“I mean, I kind of do,” he says slowly. “My schedule’s really full this semester, I don’t have time to do it by myself.”</p><p>“So find someone else,” Hangyeol says, like that’s the obvious choice.</p><p><i>There isn’t anyone else</i>, Hansol doesn’t say, letting the uncomfortable silence speak for him. Hangyeol sighs quietly, barely audible. </p><p>Their relationship has been like this for so long that sometimes Hansol forgets he ever really acted like her older brother. When they were very young he tried to care of her; his precious baby sister. He remembers taking his role very seriously. </p><p>But it hasn’t been that way for a long time, now. Hangyeol’s the one who goes to the counter to fix it if the barista gets Hansol’s order wrong. Hangyeol’s the one who called the school for him when his registration got all fucked up last semester. Hangyeol slept on the floor of his childhood bedroom for almost a full year after they moved to Seoul, like nothing bad could happen to him again as long as there was a six-year-old girl lying in between him and whatever was on the other side of the door.</p><p>“Thanks for the advice,” he mumbles into the phone after a moment of silence, awkward as ever. Hangyeol snorts, but Hansol knows she isn’t really angry. </p><p>“Just let me know how it goes, okay? Say the word and I’ll get on the subway to kick this guy’s ass, I don’t care,” Hangyeol says, finally. Hansol grunts his acknowledgement, smiling a little to himself, then gratefully lets Hangyeol change the subject.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>But surprisingly enough, Seungkwan shows up promptly the next week, buttoned into a neat little cardigan and fussy as ever. He’s still hesitant around Hansol when they meet at a café near the school, obviously feeling a little awkward, but he seems willing to give it a try. He even offers an apology, which is honestly more than Hansol expected.</p><p>Hansol accepts it, both because he’s curious and because he doesn’t really have any other choice.</p><p>“There’s an outdoor festival next weekend, if you want to go,” Seungkwan says after they’ve gotten through the basics. Hansol looks up at him, surprised. Seungkwan flushes a little. “There’ll be performances,” he hurries to add. “We could do a piece on it.”</p><p>The suggestion is unexpected: Hansol had been waiting for Seungkwan to suggest splitting the work in half, separating the duties to keep the interactions between them to a minimum.</p><p>“Yeah, sure,” he says. Why not? If Seungkwan starts acting weird Hansol can always just leave. It’s not like he has anything better to do — he was just going to spend the entire weekend reading, anyway, and that isn’t exactly time sensitive. “That’s a great idea.”</p><p>Seungkwan smiles, a tiny proud thing. Hansol hadn’t realized his opinion was something Seungkwan cared about, and he’s surprised by how nice it feels. The suspicion he felt at their last meeting is already starting to fade.</p><p>It’s embarrassing, how easy it is to melt Hansol’s resolve. How he perks up at even the slightest bit of attention, like a plant contorting itself to find the sun. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They meet at the subway entrance so they can go to the festival together — Seungkwan’s idea, of course. Hansol can already tell Seungkwan’s good at planning — at their last meeting he’d asked where Hansol’s spreadsheets were saved, only to be met with a blank stare. The look Seungkwan had given Hansol in response had been … withering, to say the least. </p><p>But Seungkwan seems cheery enough today, smiling as Hansol approaches. He looks as neat as ever, pristine in a pastel yellow button-down and neatly cuffed white pants. Hansol’s a little impressed despite himself — he can’t imagine wearing white pants all day without it ending in disaster.</p><p>“Do you think we’ll have time to stop for coffee when we get there?” Seungkwan asks as they descend into the subway station together. Hansol blinks at the question, unsure how Seungkwan expects him to know that when Seungkwan’s the one who planned the entire outing. </p><p>“Um,” he says intelligently. “Maybe?”</p><p>“God, I hope so,” Seungkwan breathes out. “I feel like I’m dying.”</p><p>He scans his card neatly at the turnstile, pushing through with brisk efficiency.  Hansol fumbles his, of course, stumbling behind Seungkwan like a fool. He didn’t even check which direction they’re going. </p><p>“You’ll have time,” Hansol decides. Seungkwan looks at him a little quizzically, and he shrugs in response. “If we’re late you can just go ahead and I’ll get it for you.”</p><p>Seungkwan keeps staring. Hansol feels his cheeks start to heat up and he glances away, embarrassed.</p><p>“That’s very nice of you,” Seungkwan says, finally. “You don’t have to.”</p><p>Hansol shrugs.</p><p>“It’s not a big deal,” he mutters. “It was your idea to go, I don’t want you to miss it.”</p><p>“Well,” Seungkwan says softly, barely audible over the announcement that the inbound train is arriving soon. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”</p><p>It doesn’t — they arrive with plenty of time to spare, Seungkwan clutching his drink to his chest with a frankly worrisome desperation. </p><p>The set itself isn’t anything special, just a few students from nearby universities doing acoustic performances and a few indie bands. Hansol records some of the performances just so he’ll be able to remember them later, when he’ll need to write a half-assed review. </p><p>Mostly what he takes away from the day is Seungkwan’s warm presence next to him, muttering commentary on the performances, pressed right up against Hansol’s arm after someone jostles him closer. Their skin is sticky where they touch. </p><p>Seungkwan laughs, loud and delighted, when one of the acoustic girls cracks a few jokes as she readies her guitar; Hansol didn’t catch what she said but he chuckles anyway, caught up in the bright peal of Seungkwan’s laughter. </p><p>“That was nice,” Seungkwan says on the train ride back, looking satisfied with himself, and Hansol nods in agreement.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They’re friends, after that, or at least something close to it. They could just divide the work between them and be done with it — the newspaper is all online, anyway, so it’s easy to send their work back and forth for review. There’s no real reason they need to keep meeting up every weekend.</p><p>But every weekend Seungkwan sends Hansol the location of whatever café he wants to meet at — a different one each time — and every weekend he makes them go through a plan for the week. </p><p>It’s a surprise, how quickly they become comfortable with each other. How quickly Seungkwan gets over his initial skepticism, even though there’s no way he doesn’t know all about Hansol’s reputation.</p><p>“I heard about what happened to you, you know,” Seungkwan says quietly, a few weeks into their second month working together, confirming what Hansol already guessed. </p><p>Hansol stiffens in anticipation immediately.</p><p>“Yeah?” he asks warily, not giving anything away. He waits for Seungkwan to give him his opinion on whatever he’s heard — and Seungkwan <i>definitely</i> has an opinion. Seungkwan has an opinion about everything, Hansol’s learned, and usually he finds it entertaining. </p><p>Right now, not so much. </p><p>But Seungkwan is just staring at him like he’s expecting <i>Hansol</i> to be the one to say something, which makes no sense. Seungkwan brought it up, after all. It isn’t something Hansol ever talks about on his own. </p><p>Hansol raises a questioning eyebrow, gesturing at Seungkwan to continue.</p><p>“Oh,” Seungkwan says, looking startled. “I didn’t have anything else to say. I just wanted you to know that I knew.”</p><p>Hansol squints at him suspiciously — it’s extremely unlike Seungkwan not to have anything else to say. </p><p>Seungkwan huffs, clearly reading the skepticism in Hansol’s expression.</p><p>“No, really!” he says, barest hint of a whine in his voice. “That’s it, I swear. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”</p><p>“I don’t want to,” Hansol confirms immediately, taking the coward’s way out. </p><p>Seungkwan nods slowly, watching Hansol carefully for a moment longer.</p><p>“You’re taking Intro to Psych this semester, right?” Seungkwan asks after a moment, changing the subject completely. For a second Hansol can only stare at him, recalibrating, before he nods with a grimace. He is, and it’s been rough so far. </p><p>“We should study together!” Seungkwan says brightly, sitting up straighter in his seat. “Are you free during the week?” </p><p>Hansol is free literally all the time. He nods, trying to look casual. </p><p>“Is Wednesday okay? I’ll message you,” Seungkwan says. </p><p>“Sure,” Hansol says, keeping his voice even as his heart stutters in his chest. </p><p>Seungkwan beams at him, pleased. Hansol’s breath catches. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“So who’d you piss off to end up stuck with me?” Hansol asks idly on Wednesday, flipping to the next page in his notes — Seungkwan’s already made fun of him for writing everything down instead of taking notes on his laptop like everyone else, but Hansol prefers it this way. Hansol chews idly at the cap of his highlighter as he stares at the page, not really taking any of it in.</p><p>“Stop that, it’s gross,” Seungkwan says, and Hansol looks up to shoot him an apologetic grin.</p><p>“Sorry,” he says, both of them knowing full well he’ll be back at it in a matter of minutes.</p><p>“And I didn’t piss anyone off,” Seungkwan sniffs haughtily. If he had longer hair he’d be tossing it over his shoulder for dramatic effect, probably, but as it is he has to settle for a little twitch of his head instead. Hansol tries to hold back his smile.</p><p>“No?” he asks.</p><p>“No,” Seungkwan says firmly. </p><p>“So it was just your sparkling personality that got you here, then?” Hansol lets himself tease a little bit. </p><p>Seungkwan narrows his eyes.</p><p>“I don’t like what you’re implying,” he says. “But no, it wasn’t that either.”</p><p>Hansol stares at him for a moment, silently waiting for him to continue. Seungkwan huffs out a deep sigh like he’s being deeply inconvenienced. </p><p>“You know Kim Hajin?” he asks, finally. Hansol blinks at him.</p><p>“The president of the newspaper? Yeah, I know him,” he says slowly. The <i>duh</i> is heavily implied.</p><p>“Well. He has some … special interests? You might say?” Seungkwan widens his eyes pointedly, like Hansol’s supposed to know what that means. Hansol stares at him blankly until he sighs and continues. “He engages in some <i>extracurricular pursuits</i>, if you know what I mean. Outside of his relationship.”</p><p>“Ah,” Hansol says. “I see.”</p><p>He pauses for a moment, thinking about it.</p><p>“Actually no, I don’t see,” he says. “What does that have to do with you?”</p><p>“He didn’t want to be associated with someone with, uh … similar interests,” Seungkwan says. </p><p>Hansol stares at him.</p><p>“You’re cheating on your girlfriend, too?” he asks, thoroughly confused. Hansol isn’t the most observant person, but he’s pretty sure he would have known if Seungkwan had a girlfriend. Seungkwan huffs again, his cheeks turning pink from the effort.</p><p>“Oh my <i>god</i>, Hansol, <i>no</i>,” he says, voice full of exasperation. “He’s <i>gay</i>. We saw each other at a club in Itaewon and it was super awkward, and then a week later they posted our assignments and here I was.”</p><p>“Ohhhhhhh,” Hansol says, nodding, and then he frowns. “That’s really fucked up.”</p><p>Seungkwan shrugs, a delicate lift of one shoulder — practiced nonchalance.</p><p>“It could be worse,” he says. “As far as I know no one’s spreading rumours about me, so I don’t think he told anyone.”</p><p>Hansol winces.</p><p>“If you’re hanging out with me then they’re definitely spreading rumours about you, dude,” he says.</p><p>“Yeah, but <i>those</i> rumours are just, like, whatever,” Seungkwan says, waving a dismissive hand. “No one’s calling me a perverted degenerate, so it’s fine.”</p><p>“That’s terrible,” Hansol says, frowning. </p><p>“It is what it is,” Seungkwan says, but Hansol can see the vulnerability underneath his forced casual demeanour — it’s in the rapid blinking of his eyes, and the quirk of his mouth. The nervous twisting of his fingers.</p><p>“Well, I’m sorry you got stuck with me,” Hansol says, because he doesn’t really have anything that will make it better. </p><p>Seungkwan looks up, eyes wide.</p><p>“Who said I’m stuck with you?” he asks. He sounds offended, which is somewhat hysterical given that Hansol’s pretty sure he heard Seungkwan utter those exact words, like, last week. </p><p>“My bad,” Hansol says anyway, letting it go. It’s cute when Seungkwan gets like this, full of bluster and self-importance. </p><p>“Maybe you got stuck with me, instead,” Seungkwan says, and it doesn’t really sound like he’s joking. Hansol frowns.</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“I mean, I know I’m not easy to get along with,” Seungkwan says. “I’m, like. Difficult.”</p><p>“You aren’t,” Hansol says, and it’s the truth. He can’t think of anyone less difficult to be around than Seungkwan, who always seems like he knows exactly what to do. </p><p>“I got a ‘does not play well with others’ on every kindergarten report card,” Seungkwan says with a little grimace. Hansol can’t help but laugh, imagining it. “Don’t laugh!” Seungkwan protests, but he’s not keeping a straight face either.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Hansol manages, but he’s still laughing. “That sounds adorable.”</p><p>Seungkwan huffs.</p><p>“I stabbed another kid with a pencil once,” he admits after a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching.</p><p>“Oh, wow,” Hansol says, laughing even harder.</p><p>“He deserved it,” Seungkwan says hastily, defending his kindergarten reputation with utmost sincerity.</p><p>“I’m sure he did,” Hansol manages through his laughter. Seungkwan makes a show of narrowing his eyes, like he isn’t sure if Hansol is being serious or not, before he gives up and smiles too.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hansol and Seungkwan are walking back towards campus together — Seungkwan has an evening class, and Hansol’s apartment is on the other side of the school — when the two girls pass them by, and it’s impossible to miss what they hiss in Hansol’s direction. </p><p>Honestly, it’s nothing Hansol hasn’t heard before. It’s not even that bad, in the grand scheme of things. He winces a little, embarrassed that now it’s directed at Seungkwan too, but it’s always easier to ignore it — he knows from experience.</p><p>Seungkwan, however, never had to learn, and he whirls around immediately, clearly ready to jab a finger in the face of the closest offender.</p><p>“No — no, come on,” Hansol almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it, grabbing Seungkwan around the waist to keep him from actual, physical violence. The level of aggression is honestly impressive coming from a man wearing cuffed shorts. “Just let it go, it’s fine.”</p><p>“It is not fine,” Seungkwan says hotly, smoothing his hair back into place with an irritated flick of his wrist as he watches the girls walk away. He takes a deep breath, still glaring. “They can’t just say shit like that, what the fuck.”</p><p>They can, actually. They have been, for as long as Hansol can remember. First because he looked different from everyone else in his class, and then later because he was the kid who disappeared and turned up in the woods three days later, dazed and muddy and palms scratched to shit, unable to remember a single thing.</p><p>“That’s so fucked up,” Seungkwan huffs, letting Hansol guide him away but clearly still worked up about it. His cheeks are flushed with anger. There’s something weirdly validating about it — the only other person who ever gets angry on Hansol’s behalf is Hangyeol. </p><p>“It’s easier if you just try not to think about it,” Hansol says, guiding Seungkwan to keep walking, keeping his hand on Seungkwan’s waist until he realizes what he’s doing and snatches it back. </p><p>“How can I not think about it?” Seungkwan asks, still sounding furious, and. Well.</p><p>Hansol doesn’t have an answer for that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Do you have any plans for summer break?” Seungkwan asks that weekend, the two of them sitting across from each other at his latest café choice — botanical themed, this time, all the light fixtures shaped like birds. Seungkwan made Hansol take pictures of him in front of one for a solid five minutes when they first came in. </p><p>Hansol stares at Seungkwan flatly.</p><p>“Shut up!” Seungkwan says, laughing. “You could! You know that one guy, right? The one you met online?”</p><p>“Jihoon-hyung,” Hansol says, smiling. They definitely don’t have plans — as far as Hansol can tell, Jihoon doesn’t leave his apartment at all. “And no, I don’t have plans.”</p><p>“Oh,” Seungkwan says. “Well, I wanted to ask you. There’s a music festival in Jeju that week, I thought maybe we could go together? I know it’s not local or anything, but we could still do something for the paper.”</p><p>“Um,” Hansol says intelligently, staring at him. Seungkwan falters visibly. </p><p>“Or … ” he starts, looking unsure now.</p><p>“No,” Hansol blurts out before Seungkwan can finish taking it back. “No, I’ll go. I want to go.”</p><p>“Oh,” Seungkwan says again, a little smile starting to form at the corner of his mouth. “Okay.”</p><p>“Okay,” Hansol repeats, smiling back.</p><p>“I thought you could just stay with me, if you want? Is that weird?” Seungkwan asks, still seeming a little hesitant. “That way you won’t have to pay for a room. I already checked with my mom.”</p><p>For a moment Hansol is so overwhelmed all he can do is stare at Seungkwan, until he realizes his silence is probably making Seungkwan feel even weirder. He shakes himself out of it. </p><p>“It’s not weird,” he manages, voice a little hoarse. “That’s really nice of you.”</p><p>“It’s nothing,” Seungkwan says immediately, voice dismissive, his confidence clearly regained now that Hansol has accepted his offer. “It’s just common sense.”</p><p>“Right,” Hansol agrees, and he’s rewarded with a smile. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s late when they arrive at Seungkwan’s family home, both of them stumbling out of the taxi. Seungkwan shushes him as they ease themselves in through the front door; both of his parents must be asleep. </p><p>Hansol follows Seungkwan silently into his room. It’s neat, a dark blue cover spread across a bed that’s almost definitely too small for two adult men to share. There are scuff marks on the walls, like whatever was hung up there — girl group posters, probably, knowing Seungkwan — got taken down when he moved out. </p><p>“Is this okay?” Seungkwan asks. Hansol nods — Seungkwan had offered to put him up in his sisters’ room instead, but he’d felt too weird about it. </p><p>“You can take that side, it’s cooler over there,” Seungkwan says, gesturing towards the far side of the bed. </p><p>Hansol freezes, taking in the layout of the room. </p><p>“What?” Seungkwan asks, pausing where he’s started unzipping his bag to get a better look at Hansol’s expression. Hansol winces.</p><p>“It’s nothing,” he mutters, but Seungkwan just rolls his eyes. </p><p>“Come on,” he says. “Don’t be stupid. You can tell me.”</p><p>“I can’t sleep by windows,” Hansol admits, the back of his neck heating up with embarrassment. It’s dumb — the room is so small that it won’t make a difference which side of the bed Hansol is on. Logically he knows this, but logic can’t force his body to relax or the back of his neck to stop prickling, uncomfortable and tense. </p><p>Seungkwan blinks, taking a moment to process.</p><p>“Oh,” he says. “I’ll take that side, then, and you can be by the door. Is that better?”</p><p>Hansol stares at him. Seungkwan stares back, wilting a little when Hansol doesn’t respond immediately.</p><p>“Or is that not good either?” he asks, quieter this time, looking a little unsure. </p><p>“No, no,” Hansol says quickly. “It’s good. Thank you.”</p><p>“Okay,” Seungkwan says quietly. He’s clutching his pyjamas to his chest. “I’ll just … ” he makes a vague gesture towards the hallway. </p><p>“Okay,” Hansol parrots back, like a total moron.</p><p>When Seungkwan leaves he takes the time to open his own bag, digging out his toothbrush and the only pair of pyjama pants he owns. After a moment’s hesitation he takes out his phone and sends a message to Hangyeol — he hadn’t told her where he was going, just that he was going with Seungkwan. </p><p>His phone lights up with an incoming call immediately, and Hansol huffs out a laugh. He doesn’t know what he expected. </p><p>“You’re <i>where</i>?” Hangyeol asks as soon as he accepts the call, disbelief clear in her tone. Hansol winces.</p><p>“It’s not a big deal,” he mutters. Hangyeol snorts in disbelief. </p><p>“Oppa,” she says seriously. “It’s a big fucking deal.”</p><p>He knows what she’s talking about, but he still wishes she would drop it. The last time Hansol even considered getting on a plane, he was thirteen and his parents were talking about moving back to America. Hansol had a panic attack so bad they had to take him to urgent care. He’d done his best to act normal after that, and they never mentioned moving again — or flying. </p><p>“I’m not thirteen anymore,” he says, keeping his voice low so he doesn’t wake anyone up. “It was fine.” </p><p>It <i>was</i> fine — better than Hansol could have expected, honestly. Maybe because he had Seungkwan next to him, complaining first about the cost of the cab ride, and then the security line, and then the lack of leg room on the plane, an exaggerated pout on his face the entire time. It had been … distracting, to say the least. </p><p>“This is crazy,” Hangyeol says, completely ignoring him. “I never would have thought — you really flew there? On a real airplane?” </p><p>“As opposed to what? A fake one?” Hansol laughs quietly, looking up as Seungkwan slips back in the room. Seungkwan makes a questioning face. “I have to go, okay? I’ll call you back tomorrow,” Hansol says quickly, and Hangyeol huffs but lets him go. </p><p>“Sorry, I had to tell my sister I was here,” Hansol says to Seungkwan, and he hums in acknowledgment. </p><p>“You two are close, right?” Seungkwan says, looking interested, and Hansol nods. </p><p>“Yeah,” he says. “Really close.”</p><p>Seungkwan hums again. </p><p>“That’s nice,” he says, smiling. “I’m glad you have each other.”</p><p>Hansol knows what he’s really saying and it makes him a little uncomfortable; he nods tightly. Seungkwan just smiles even brighter, unfazed, until Hansol’s forced to smile in response. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You can show me, you know,” Seungkwan says later, when they’re both tucked into his double bed. “The stuff you look up. I know you’re in all those, like. Conspiracy theory cafés, or whatever.”</p><p>Even the way he says it is ridiculous, the words awkward in his mouth. But he’s trying, which is more than Hansol can say for anyone else. </p><p>“You don’t have to say that,” Hansol says, meaning it. “I know you still think it’s weird.”</p><p>Seungkwan shrugs, mouth pursed.</p><p>“It’s weird for an eleven-year-old to disappear out of a locked room, too,” he says. “It’s weird that you don’t remember any of it.”</p><p>Hansol pauses, letting that settle.</p><p>“It is, yeah,” he says hoarsely. He doesn’t understand how Seungkwan keeps doing it—how he can make Hansol feel so validated, even in the simplest ways. </p><p>“I want … ” Seungkwan trails off, visibly searching for what to say next. He looks so determined — Hansol can’t help but be charmed. “I want to understand.”</p><p>“It’s okay if you don’t believe me,” Hansol says. “It’s really okay.”</p><p>“No, that’s — ” Seungkwan cuts himself off, visibly frustrated. “That’s not it, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Hansol says slowly, not sure he understands. Seungkwan definitely <i>doesn’t</i> believe him, but it doesn’t have to be a big deal. No one believes him. His own parents don’t believe him.</p><p>Hansol isn’t sure why Seungkwan’s acting so weird about it. </p><p>“When I looked it up,” Seungkwan says, voice very serious. “At first I just believed what people said, but then I looked up the official report to see what really happened. I wanted to know.”</p><p>Hansol stiffens. </p><p>“And?” he says, dreading whatever Seungkwan’s going to say next.</p><p>“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Seungkwan says, chin jutting out obstinately. “And I don’t think it matters who did it. If it was a monster or just some random person, it doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“Oh?” Hansol doesn’t trust himself to say more. </p><p>“It must have been horrible,” Seungkwan says, eyes wide and earnest, shining in the dim room. “You must have been so afraid.”</p><p>“Um.” Hansol says, clearing his throat. “I was, yeah.”</p><p>It hurts to think about it, even now, that horrifying blankness. No matter how hard he searches, it’s just a void — no memories, nothing at all. He remembers the day before, yelling at Hangyeol for some reason or another. His mom scolding him, telling him to be kinder to his sister. </p><p>He remembers the police station, shivering under the shock blanket they’d draped over him while he waited for his parents to come. Nothing in between.</p><p>“My fingernails were all fucked up when they found me,” Hansol says quietly, closing his eyes so he won’t have to see the expression on Seungkwan’s face. “Like … like I’d been clawing at something.”</p><p>Seungkwan inhales sharply, but he doesn’t say anything. Hansol knows if he looks he’ll see Seungkwan’s mouth pinched tight, holding his thoughts back. </p><p>“I think about that all the time,” Hansol admits. “I know it’s bad, but I can’t help it.”</p><p>Seungkwan’s hand reaches out to grab Hansol’s, holding tight. When Hansol finally opens his eyes Seungkwan’s gaze is determined, his mouth set in a grim line.</p><p>“I’ll think about it with you,” he says, voice not wavering in the slightest.</p><p>It’s not what Hansol expected, so uncomfortably honest that it makes him ache to hear it. </p><p>“Okay,” he whispers.</p><p>“You don’t have to be alone anymore, okay?” Seungkwan says, still looking deadly serious. “Whatever it is, you can show me.”</p><p>“I wasn’t alone,” Hansol says, voice cracking a little on the last word. He clears his throat again. “I had my parents. I had Hangyeol.”</p><p>Seungkwan doesn’t look convinced. </p><p>“I wish I could have been your friend back then,” he says. “I would have taken care of you.”</p><p>“You’re my friend now,” Hansol offers, hoping Seungkwan can feel the weight of it. “You take care of me now.”</p><p>Seungkwan smiles, a bright quick twist of his mouth. </p><p>“I guess I do,” he says, adopting the long-suffering tone Hansol knows is an act. “Ah, where would you be without me?”</p><p>“Not taking vitamin D every morning, that’s for sure,” Hansol says, laughing when Seungkwan reaches out to smack his arm in mock offence, then settles back on his side of the bed. </p><p>“You’re <i>welcome</i>,” Seungkwan says pointedly.</p><p>Hansol smiles at him hesitantly. </p><p>“I’ll show you,” he says, more seriously. “If that’s what you want.”</p><p>“It is,” Seungkwan says, nodding against the pillow, looking resolute. Hansol nods back, still smiling. </p><p>Seungkwan reaches for his hand again, and squeezes tight. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Hansol wakes up it’s still dark. He’s sweating, clammy and shaky. It’s nothing new — he never sleeps well in new places. He’s lucky, this time — if he was dreaming, at least he can’t remember it. </p><p>For a moment he just lies there in the dark room, listening to Seungkwan’s steady breathing next to him. It’s better than if he was alone; he’s glad he didn’t end up taking Seungkwan’s sisters’ room. </p><p>Hansol takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down enough to go back to sleep. Seungkwan has a whole day planned for them, he’s pretty sure. He’ll regret it if he can’t get enough rest beforehand. </p><p>“Mm?” Seungkwan murmurs, rolling over. His eyes squint open, mouth automatically falling into a pout. His face looks even softer than usual. “Is it time to wake up?”</p><p>He’s clearly barely awake, slurring the words together so badly they’re barely intelligible. Hansol shakes his head against the pillow.</p><p>“I just woke up, sorry,” he whispers. “Go back to sleep.”</p><p>“Is everything okay?” Seungkwan asks. </p><p>“It’s fine,” Hansol reassures him. “I just don’t sleep well sometimes, that’s all.”</p><p>“Oh,” Seungkwan says, frowning, eyes blinking open for real. Even through his sleepy confusion he looks upset, like he thinks it’s his fault. He probably does — Seungkwan doesn’t like when things don’t go exactly as he planned. </p><p>“Go back to sleep,” Hansol says again, but Seungkwan’s frown just gets deeper. </p><p>“What would help you?” he asks, yawning, words coming out a little fuzzy. “Does it help you that I’m here? Should I give you space?”</p><p>“No, don’t,” Hansol says immediately, reaching out to grab Seungkwan’s hand. Seungkwan freezes, then nods tiredly. He moves his arm in Hansol’s grip, adjusting until their hands are clasped together. “It helps if you’re here,” Hansol says quietly, cheeks burning.</p><p>“Okay,” Seungkwan whispers. For a moment he just blinks at Hansol, expression very grave.</p><p>“There’s supposed to be a ton of ghosts in Jeju,” Hansol says suddenly. Nothing feels real like this, in the darkness of Seungkwan’s childhood bedroom, and the words slip out before he has time to reconsider. “We could go look for some while we’re here.”</p><p>“What the fuck,” Seungkwan whispers, but he looks much more awake now, his eyes finally blinking all the way open.</p><p>“You said I could show you,” Hansol says. “Before.”</p><p>Seungkwan nods. </p><p>“I did,” he says slowly. </p><p>“So we could start here, if you want,” Hansol offers. He keeps his voice even, but his heart is pounding in his chest as he waits for Seungkwan’s response. </p><p>“Okay,” Seungkwan says. His hand is still in Hansol’s, warm and soft.</p><p>“Okay,” Hansol agrees. </p><p>He watches as Seungkwan’s eyes start to drift shut only for him to blink them back open aggressively, like he can force himself to stay awake. Hansol smiles, endeared.</p><p>“I’m just gonna … ” Seungkwan murmurs, finally, giving up and letting his eyes slip closed. “If you still can’t sleep, wake me back up, okay?” He squeezes Hansol’s hand in his, eyes still closed, and Hansol nods even though Seungkwan can’t see it. </p><p>Hansol’s expecting to stay up for longer, but he falls asleep almost immediately. </p><p>He doesn’t dream.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sometimes you really are just minding your own business and then fuck! VERKWAN</p><p>shout out to the <a href="https://youtu.be/_5PELxP8Udg?t=53">oh my!</a> mv for the vernon getting abducted by aliens visual &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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